


Breaking Out

by BreakfastTea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pitioss Ruins (Final Fantasy XV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakfastTea/pseuds/BreakfastTea
Summary: Noctis escapes Pitioss, but the memory of what happened isn't so easy to evade.





	Breaking Out

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY! I finished this story. I've been working on it since January ^^; Hooray for Noct Whump Week forcing me to get something done.
> 
> If you're interested, there's a great article here about Pitioss: https://www.reddit.com/r/FFXV/comments/5t367b/pitioss_ruins_revelations/

Daylight. Finally. Daylight. It startled his eyes. Holding a trembling hand up to shield them, Noctis limped outside. His ankles and knees ached, the pain of too many long drops throbbing through his bones and joints. Worse, his back throbbed mercilessly; all that falling had shocked fragile scars. And yet he’d survived all his most recent falls. He laughed before he could cry. _Survived._ He’d given up keeping track of how many falls had killed him.

Death hadn’t stuck for long in Pitioss.

The exit opened up above the path he’d taken into the dungeon, meaning the only way down was to, ha _ha_ , fall. He dropped down to the ground, hitting hard. His left ankle twisted with a crunch. His leg buckled, and he hit the floor with a cry. Pain pulsed, his vision flashing and threatening to tunnel into nothingness. He curled up, the ground beneath him so, so warm. He wanted to sleep right there, and worry about everything else later. The warmth bathed him, chasing off Pitioss’ chill. How long had he been cold? When had he last felt the sun on his back?

His bliss was short-lived. Now he was out, hunger and exhaustion smashed into him. The world turned around him, gravity pressing him down, down, down onto the ground that wasn’t really pleasantly warm but blisteringly hot. Too hot. The sun baked his skin. He’d been in the shadows for far too long.

Noctis didn’t want to move, but he had to. He just… how? How was he going to move when the whole world danced around him? Loop after loop, he struggled to see which way he needed to go. He staggered to his feet, but his left ankle wouldn’t hold him. He tipped over and crashed to his knees. Everything rocked around him, like the planet itself wanted to throw him off.

“Not a chance,” he told the ground beneath him.

With no other choice, Noctis crawled to the ledge that would take him back outside and away from Pitioss. He tried not to cry at the thought of the next drop he’d have to take back to the ground. Then he imagined Gladio telling him to _suck it up_ and he dragged himself onwards.

A voice hit the air the moment he hit the edge of the ledge. “Noct!”

Ignis. Ignis was there, waiting at the bottom of the path that led up to the old ruins. Tears of exhausted joy blinded Noctis. He tried to call back, but his voice was barely more than a croak.

“I’m on my way!” Ignis shouted. “Hold on!”

Noctis had to reach Ignis. And he had to get away from Pitioss. Noctis slid off the platform and hit the ground below, trying, and failing, to spare his injured ankle. He crumpled, the world spinning around him. Even the sky overhead twisted and turned. He was so, so hot, like he’d pulled the sun’s heat into himself. Nausea sat heavily in his stomach, a thick headache pounding behind his eyes. He tried to get up, but his body felt like it had gained several hundred extra pounds. He couldn’t move.

And yet despite everything, he laughed. He’d done it. He’d entered, explored and escaped Pitioss. It had taken… hours? Lots of hours? And he’d fallen… and… and those spikes… and… and hadn’t he been crushed at least once? Maybe? Brief flashes of pain rippled across his memory, but the feeling of plummeting, over and over and over again, didn’t fade. His laugh took on a hysterical edge.

He’d survived.

Oh, gods, why wouldn’t everything stop spinning? And why was he so hot? He closed his eyes, willing the world to just hold still for a minute.

Footsteps skidded to a halt beside him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Noctis tried to speak, but his voice stuck in his throat. He coughed until Ignis pushed a bottle at him. Noctis drunk until he thought he would throw up.

“Look at me.”

Noctis looked. Ignis’ face hovered above, doubling and tripling as it whirled around him. He slammed his eyes shut. “Stay still,” he said, voice hoarse.

“I’m not moving,” Ignis said.

“Everything’s moving. Nothing’s staying still.” He pressed a hand to his stomach. If he got through this without throwing up, it would be a miracle.

“We should get to camp. The others are there. You’ve… you’ve been gone for a while.” An arm slid under his shoulders. “Come, Noct. Stand.”

Noctis latched onto Ignis, clinging to him like maybe the world would stop spinning if he found something stable to hold onto.

“Breathe,” Ignis said. “Slow, calm breaths. Whatever happened, it’s over now.”

Noctis gasped for breath, not realising he’d been holding it. Without warning, Ignis hauled him to his feet.

And caught him before he could fall right back down again.

“Dizzy?” Ignis asked.

Noctis grunted an affirmative. That, and the ankle. And his knees. And his back. Everything, really. He really, really hoped he hadn’t broken anything.

“We’ll take it slow,” Ignis said.

“Gonna have to hop,” he mumbled.

“Hop?” Ignis asked.

“Ankle.”

“Ah, I see. Do your best. The haven’s not too far from here.”

Eyes barely open, body leaning heavily on Ignis, Noctis hobbled onwards. Every step felt like the ground would give way beneath him. Maybe it would give way beneath him. Maybe he’d be able to walk up the mountain and straight into the sky where he’d fall forever and never, ever find his way back out.

“What happened?” Ignis asked.

How was he supposed to answer something like that? He’d died. A lot. Maybe. Kind of. In a blink and it’s over kind of way.

Except for when he fell.

The falling went on and on and he never, ever saw the floor rush up to meet him because it was so dark and –

He gagged, doubling over. Only the water came back out. When he stopped, Ignis guided him onwards again. Noctis kept his eyes shut. He couldn’t take the sight of the ground and the sky switching places.

“Almost there,” Ignis said.

The more they walked, the more everything hurt. Aches and pains he hadn’t felt cried out for attention. He needed sleep. This walk stole what little energy he had left. He begged Ignis to stop for a moment so he could catch his breath.

“You didn’t rest while you were in there?” Ignis asked.

“No.”

“Not even once?” There was something in Ignis’ voice, a tone Noctis couldn’t place.

“No.”

“But Noct, it’s been –”

“Shh, please. Shh. I don’t feel good.”

The admission slipped out before he could cushion it with an _I’m fine_ or something similar.

“Sorry.” Ignis dropped his voice. “Let’s get you to camp.”

Somehow, Noctis made it back to the haven. Prompto and Gladio were there, minding the cooker where lunch (or breakfast – Noctis had no idea) simmered. Both stepped towards him. His vision wobbled like he had to watch the world from underwater.

“Noct, you’re… well, okay, you’re not okay, but you’re alive!” Prompto said. “We were worried!”

“Did you forget how to use a phone?” Gladio demanded.

“Later, Gladio,” Ignis said in a tone that even Gladio wouldn’t argue with. “Now is not the time.”

“We’re glad you’re back,” Prompto said.

Noctis tried to speak, but the relief of making it to the haven caught up with him. The day’s heat crushed him from within as his vision faded to grey. He heard vague shouts and could only hope someone caught him before he hit the ground again.

* * *

A wall made of spikes rushed fowards, a massive skull carved of stone bearing down on him. If he hadn’t been here for… for… for however long it had been, the weirdness of it might’ve made him laugh. But the knowledge of what was coming his way killed any humour. Noctis had no escape. If he jumped down, he’d fall to his death. If he climbed up, gravity would flip, sending him crashing into the spikes again. They would drive themselves through his body, his flesh puncturing, his organs rupturing. Blood would fill his mouth as he suffocated, and then he’d reset, his body restored with only his memory remaining.

A flash caught his attention. Noctis looked up. Too late. He’d allowed himself to be distracted. The wall of spikes drove themselves through him. Pain ripped through him. He coughed, a fountain of blood erupting from his mouth.

Noctis slammed awake. Panting for air, he jolted upright and found himself not in Pitioss but in bed instead. Bed? Had he dreamt the camp too? Looking around, he realised he was in the Leville in Lestallum.

How… _when_ had he arrived?

Shivering, colder than he should be, Noctis looked around. The others weren’t with him. Relieved, he took a few moments to catch his breath. The world turned around him in a lazy loop. Hunger churned in his stomach. He ran his tongue over his teeth and winced at the fur coating them. He was a wreck.  

Figuring his friends had gone into the city for supplies, Noctis kicked off the sheets, wincing at the pain in his ankle. His boots were gone, as were his socks. Someone had wrapped a bandage around his injured foot. He winced at the bruising and swelling. And the dirt. He became aware of the stale stench of sweat coming off his body. Yeah, okay, maybe he needed to take a shower. He hoped the warm water would chase off the chill.

He carefully lifted himself out of bed. His injured ankle wasn’t happy to take his weight, so he hopped over to the bathroom, crashing into everything in his path. It was hard; his body felt too weak, and the dizziness hadn’t let up. Ghosts of the pain he’d felt in all his deaths echoed in his body. He closed his eyes, the memories swelling. He pushed his way through and opened his eyes. It was over. He was safe.

So why was he so cold?

When he reached the bathroom, Noctis saw that someone, Ignis probably, had brought his wash-kit and a change of clothes in from the car. Silently thanking his thoughtful friend, Noctis grabbed his toothbrush and freshened up his breath. At least his mouth no longer tasted like something had died in there.

Teeth clean, he flipped on the shower. He undressed, stepped in, and let time melt away as the warm water washed off the dirt. He watched the bruises emerging from the grime, his chest a mess of black and blue. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t broken bones. To think he’d walked away with only a twisted ankle was amazing.

The water sprayed over him. A sigh of pure bliss escaped him. He closed his eyes and relished the warmth and the smell of soap. This was nothing like Pitioss. Here, there was light and warmth and fresh scents. He wasn’t forced to breathe the stench of cold stone and rust. He wasn’t drowning in silence and darkness anymore. Beyond the water, he could hear the sounds of the city outside, of laughter and music.

He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the sounds of other people.

A sob escaped him. He had _died_ , over and over again, on and on and on until he’d finally escaped back into the real world. His heart lurched at the memories of sharp, sudden pain followed by a flash of light and the sensation of his feet hitting the ground when he found himself back where he started.

“This is real,” he whispered to himself. He pressed his hands against the tiles of the shower, their chill sharp against the heat of the shower. “I’m alive.” He pressed his weight against his aching ankle, pain biting into bone and sinew. Tears tinged his laughter. “Definitely alive.”

He stayed in the shower until the warm water chilled. Turning it off, he dried off and dressed in clean clothes. Lightheaded with hunger, he had to wait for a fresh wave of dizziness to pass before he could move. When he felt ready, hobbled back into the room.

The others had returned. Noctis hadn’t heard them over the sound of the shower. “Hi,” he said.

“Sleeping Beauty awakens!” Prompto declared. “Thank you for showering, man. You were stinking the whole place up.”

“Whatever.” Noctis grabbed a blanket off the nearest bed, wrapped it around himself, and carefully dropped into a chair, propping his ankle up on the table. He shifted until he found a position that didn’t leave his back throbbing. Not easy when his ankle also ached ferociously. He wrapped his arms around himself, still not warm enough for his liking.

“How are you feeling?” Ignis asked. “You passed out yesterday so we opted to come here. You didn’t even wake up when the doctor looked you over.”

“Doctor?” Noctis asked.

“You needed treatment. He gave you an IV to rehydrate you and he bound your ankle,” Ignis said. “He stopped by an hour ago to remove the drip.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Noctis said.

“You slept _hard_ ,” Prompto said.

“Dizzy?” Ignis asked.

“Not really,” Noctis said.

Prompto coughed. “Liar.”

Noctis levelled a glare at him.

Prompto laughed nervously. “Wow, remind me not to make you mad when you’re still tired!”

“How can you be tired?” Gladio asked. “You slept for twenty-four hours.”

“I’ve slept for longer,” Noctis said.

Gladio rolled his eyes and let that one slide.

“What happened?” Ignis asked. “What was that place? We were unable to enter.”

“You were?” Relief flooded Noctis. The thought of his friends entering Pitioss, of going through the same lengthy cycle of deaths, horrified him.                                                                                  

“We waited for you to emerge,” Ignis said. “We had to take it in shifts, but –” 

“Shifts?” Noctis sat up straighter. “How long was I in there?”

The others shared a worried look.

“How long?” Noctis demanded. He didn’t have the energy to play guessing games.

“Five days,” Gladio said.

“Five…” It didn’t make sense. That number had to be wrong. They’d miscounted. He leaned forward, bending double and hoping that would stop the world turning. “That’s not possible.” Two days maybe, but five? That was impossible.

How had he spent five days in Pitioss? Time hadn’t moved in that place.

Unlike the walls.

“When you didn’t come out after the first day, we called Cor,” Ignis said. “He told us the rumours about Pitioss. About its connection to Ifrit.”

Five days. _Five_ days. He looked at his friends. They must’ve thought he was never coming back. Noctis opened his mouth, but he couldn’t speak. Shock muted him.

“Don’t worry about it. Once we spoke to Cor and he told us the rumours, we chilled,” Gladio said. “He told us about how it’s a monument to show Ifrit’s struggles, and how only those with a connection to the Astrals can enter. He seemed pretty certain you’d come to no harm.”

A hysterical giggle escaped him. No harm? Sure. No harm. Because his deaths hadn’t stuck in Pitioss.

“Was he wrong?” Ignis asked.

Feeling tears prickling his eyes, Noctis pulled in a deep breath. “Cor’s right.”

Ignis didn’t look convinced.

“We literally could not follow you,” Prompto said. “We tried, but –” He shook his head. “I dunno how to explain it. My body just wouldn’t go.”

“Yes,” Ignis said. “It was most disconcerting.”

“Oh,” Noctis said.

“What happened in there?” Prompto asked.

Noctis refused to answer. He rubbed his arms, fingertips brushing over goosebumps. What was wrong with him? He was out now. Safe. He needed to get over it already.

“Perhaps Noct should eat before we interrogate him,” Ignis said. “I bought ingredients. I’ll make some sandwiches.”

“I’ll help!” Prompto said, jumping up.

“I’m coming,” Gladio said, pushing himself to his feet.

Relaxing, Noctis leaned back in his chair, his head tilted back. He stared at the fan spinning overhead. The rhythmic noise lulled him, taking him back to Pitioss. He missed a ledge and plummeted into the endless darkness beneath him, arms pinwheeling uselessly as the ground raced up to –

“Noct?”

Noctis snapped awake with a gasp, flailing like he had to find something to hold onto. That something turned out to be Gladio’s arm.

“You alright?” Gladio asked.

Noct nodded breathlessly. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” Gladio sounded uncharacteristically worried.

Noctis released his deathgrip on Gladio’s arm. “Thought I was falling.”

“Falling?”

“Yeah.” Noctis scrubbed at his face. “It happened a lot in there.”

“The ruins?”

“Yeah.” Noctis shivered. “Lost count.”

“Of how many times you fell?” Gladio asked. He grabbed a blanket and threw it over Noctis. “That how you busted your ankle?”

“Yeah,” Noctis said, burrowing under the blanket. He glanced at the bandage, remembering that final fall from the statue. The one insane fall his body had taken and survived. A ghost of the shock and pain echoed in his bones and muscles. He shifted uneasily. His back and knees ached dully. “Guess I got lucky.”

Gladio frowned.

“Lunch is ready!” Prompto called. He stepped out from the small kitchen with Ignis, both of them carrying plates loaded with sandwiches.

Noctis slid his ankle off the table. He accepted a plate of sandwiches and a large glass of water. His stomach quivered at the thought of food, so he downed the water instead.

“Eat,” Ignis said.

“Yeah, before I take them,” Gladio said around a mouthful of food.

Noctis’ stomach clenched. It was no good. He couldn’t eat. “I’m sorry.”

“Talk to us,” Prompto said. “Maybe it’ll help.”

No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t worry his friends like that. “I’m just tired,” he said instead.

“You’re in shock,” Ignis said.

A faint smile touched Noctis’ lips. “That’s true.”

“Eat,” Ignis said. “And then you sleep.”

Knowing he wouldn’t escape, Noctis took a sandwich and ate. He picked it to pieces and chewed the sandwich fragments slowly, his thoughts dragged away by Pitioss. How many times had he reset to the beginning? How many times had he accepted the inevitability of another death just to work out the way forward?

What if one time he hadn’t reset? What if he’d thrown himself to his death and not returned? What would happen to Lucis then? And his friends never would’ve known. They would’ve sat outside, worrying, never knowing. Five days must’ve been hard enough on them, but what if –

“Noct?”

He swallowed a mouthful and looked up at Prompto. “What?” When his voice tremored, he cleared his throat and tried again. “What is it?”

“You okay?” Prompto asked.

“Me? I’m fine,” Noctis said.

Prompto shook his head. “You’re crying,” he said, sounding concerned.

Noctis became aware of the dampness on his cheeks. “Oh.”

“Also, it’s, like a hundred degrees outside and you’re bundled up like it’s the middle of winter,” Prompto said.

Noctis pulled the blanket tighter. “I’m cold.”

Ignis reached out. “You really aren’t,” he said.

“Talk to us,” Prompto said. “It’s gotta be better than holding it all in.”

Noctis shook his head, regretting it immediately as he set the dizziness off again. “I just need some more sleep,” he said. “We can get out of here in the morning.”

The others shared a look. Noctis pretended he didn’t notice.

“At least eat something else so you can take some painkillers,” Ignis said.

Knowing he was worrying his friends and hating himself for it, Noctis forced himself to eat. He couldn’t be more of a burden, not after forcing them to hang around for five days waiting for him to drag himself back out of Pitioss.

He shivered. He still couldn’t get warm, despite the heat of Lestallum. Maybe all those deaths had left their mark.

After he ate enough to please Ignis, Noctis swallowed a few pills. He turned to the bed. Exhaustion clung to him even though the thought of sleeping, of dreaming, was incredibly unwelcoming. He would fall back into nightmares, find himself running through Pitioss again like maybe he’d never gotten out and there he was right now, dreaming he’d escaped when -

“Noct?” Ignis called.

He jolted out of his thoughts. He didn’t even look back. He knew he’d see three matching worried looks. “Still tired,” he said. He crawled into the bed and burrowed under the blankets. He wanted to stay awake, but that was a battle he would not win.

If he woke up screaming, he didn’t want to do it with company. “You guys should go out. Get some air. Enjoy the city.” He pulled the blanket over his head. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Prompto asked.

“Yeah,” Noctis said. “You wanted to check out that photography store didn’t you? Go.”

“B-but –”

“And Gladio, go get one of those root beers,” Noctis said.

Gladio stared at him. “You’re not gonna do anything stupid, are you?”

“I’m gonna sleep,” Noctis said.

“We’ll give you some time to yourself,” Ignis said. “But don’t go anywhere.”

Noctis pulled a hand free of the sheets and waved them off. Moments later, he heard them leave.

Moments after that, he was asleep again.

* * *

The darkness never ended.

No one else ever came.

Alone. He was alone.

He fought his way through Pitioss, escaping despite all his deaths. Noctis emerged, limping and sore, into a dark world. No stars. No moon. Nothing. Just him and a landscape devoid of life.

“Ignis! Gladio! Prompto!”

Noctis’ voice echoed back.

Panic hummed inside him. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Where were they? He limped to the campsite but when he got there, the tent was in shreds and even the runes were dim. Noctis moved through the wreckage. Nothing. No sign they’d been there in… weeks.

A cold wind blew. Noctis shuddered. This part of the land had always been barren, but it seemed worse in the darkness.

Noctis walked and walked, the pain in his ankle biting harder with every step. He had to find someone. There had to be someone nearby.

No one.

He’d brought Pitioss’ darkness out into the world, and it was never letting go.

He heard a footstep behind him. Noctis jolted to a stop, heart lifting with hope. He turned.

His friends were there.

But something was wrong. Scourge oozed from their eyes and ears. Their bodies twitched in inhuman ways. When their weapons appeared in their hands, it wasn’t to defend Noctis.

Blades and bullets cut him down. Noctis collapsed, bleeding and dying.

His friends stepped in to make sure the death stuck this time. They stabbed and shot, over and over again. Noctis couldn’t fight them off, couldn’t defend himself as his life bled out of him.

“Stop! Stop! Get away from me!”

“Noct! Noct, wake up!”

He lashed out with his fist, only for Gladio to catch it. The real Gladio, one who wasn’t afflicted with the Scourge. His friend looked down at him, concern in his eyes. “You’re alright,” Gladio said, voice low. “Breathe, Noct. Before you pass out.”

Noctis sucked in a breath. And another. And then he burst into loud, hysterical sobs.

Gladio pulled him into a hug. “Get it out,” he said.

Helpless, Noctis wept. By the time he calmed down, he felt even more wrung out than he had when he’d first escaped Pitioss. He tried to push away from Gladio, but his arms trembled too much. Embarrassed, he stayed slumped in his friend’s embrace.

“Talk to me,” Gladio said. “This has gone on long enough.”

And so Noctis told him everything. When he was finished, Gladio didn’t speak for a few moments. Noctis scrubbed at his eyes. “I’m fine, really.”

“No,” Gladio said. “You’re not. But you will be.” He helped Noctis to sit up. “Next time you go through something like that, tell us. You know we’re all worried sick about you.”

“Didn’t know how to explain it,” Noctis mumbled.

Gladio ruffled his head. “You’re terrible at this.”

Noctis laughed softly. “I know.” He looked up at Gladio. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Noctis leaned back against the pillows. Gladio reached down and plucked something out of a bag on the floor. He held out a bottle of root beer. “When you feel better, you gotta turn some of these into Potions.”

Noctis took it. “If you say so. Not sure Ignis will approve.”

“Listen, if you could turn Ebony into Potions, you know he’d make you.”

This time, Noctis laughed properly. “Yeah, he would. I never understood why Ebony’s so resistant to magic.” Pulling the cap off the bottle, he took a swig of the drink. “Ugh, that’s gross.” He handed it to Gladio. “Did you bring anything else?”

“Picky, picky, picky,” Gladio said. He handed over a bottle of cola instead.

“Thanks.” Noctis sipped the fizzy drink. The sugar gave him a burst of energy. Not enough for him to want to do anything, but enough to keep him awake.

“We’ve got a couple of simple jobs to take care of tomorrow if you feel up to it,” Gladio said. “Deliveries here and there.”

“Sure,” Noctis said. Anything to take his mind off Pitioss.

Gladio nodded in approval. “Your ankle needs a few more days, but we shouldn’t need to fight. If we do, you hang back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Noctis said.

“If you’re being a smart ass, you must be feeling better,” Gladio said.

“Guess so,” Noctis said. He looked at Gladio. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Gladio said.

 

**Author's Note:**

> All I want right now is Gladio in Ultimate Big Brother Mode. Give me ALL the fics where he comforts Noct. All of them!
> 
> Ah, Pitioss. You gave me Dark Souls flashbacks.
> 
> (Also, haha, in my playthrough, Noct was in Pitioss for eight days ^^;)


End file.
